Just Another Day
by TheEliteLabRatsLover
Summary: So what if they all forgot Dean's birthday? It's not like it was important or anything. It was just another day. Stanford era.


**So...I'm back? I can't believe this is like the second story I've written this year. It's gone so fast. I promise I'm gonna' start posting more Flash stories! I've got several coming. ;)**

**I wrote this cuz it was my birthday a while back and well, since I kinda' hate that day I figured I'd make my favorite character suffer through it with me, lol. Alas! This story was written. As one of my favorite artists says, "make your tragedies a work of art".**

**Disclaimer: I own no part of the Supernatural fandom, even if I wish I did :(**

* * *

Whatever.

It was just another day, right?

He wasn't a child anymore, so it didn't matter.

Who cared that everyone had forgotten his birthday, anyway?

It's not like it was special or anything. Not like it was his golden birthday.

Oh, _wait_.

At least Bobby had an excuse; laid up in a hospital after having his guts nearly blown out in a freaking hunting accident.

Yeah, "_hunting_" accident.

And he hoped to God, that his father didn't have an excuse and was just being absent as usual. But how would he know? Not like he'd talked to the man in over two months.

And then, oh, and this one _hurt_, there was Sammy.

Good ol' stanford law student Sam.

Dean didn't expect anything. He didn't expect a phone call from any of the men.

Why should this year be any different than the past two?

Besides, celebrating birthdays is for kids. They're not important. Especially not his.

Even if it is his golden birthday.

At least, thats what he tells himself.

_So what._

He groaned as he sat up on the creaky bed in some broken down motel in an even more broken down town somewhere in the middle of Oregon. He'd spent the first half of the day, busying himself. Losing himself in the preparation of tonight's hunt.

And maybe, _just maybe_, he'd held out a little bit of hope all day because maybe, just freaking _maybe_ this day would be different.

This day would be special.

Of course it never was.

But he never asked for much.

Just a phone call. Maybe even, if he was feeling extra selfish, reuniting with his brother or father.

Not even both. He wasn't that picky.

Maybe have some pie and just enjoy each other's company. That's all he could ever want for his birthday. But apparently, that was too much.

He knew he shouldn't be drinking before a hunt, but really, as he lifted the alcoholic beverage to his lips he couldn't find it in him to frankly give a damn. He pretended the trickle down his chin was from the beer and not another salty substance.

_Suck it up._

He could hear his father's voice in his head even if it's been long enough now he should be able to at least forget the force behind it.

It was just a measly day that signified he'd turned a year older.

_Whoo hoo._

Dean snatched his phone up in his hand before he even realized what he was doing. Flipping it open, he went to contacts and let himself dream a little.

Would Sam answer it if he called? Would he be happy and tell him "happy birthday" or would he yell at him and tell him he didn't want to be associated with him or their life anymore? At least, that's what happened last year on this day.

And then there was dad.

Oh, he knew the old man wouldn't answer.

Then again the chances that Sam would answer were pretty slim, as well.

Screw it.

He'd only have a golden birthday once and who knew how tonight would go. So why the hell not?

Maybe the alcohol was affecting his senses a little bit and making him sentimental.

_Or maybe, maybe you're just lonely._

He ignored that last little stab to the gut and in a moment of a bravery he didn't know he possessed, he dialed Sam's number.

Instant regret washed over him in waves.

Shit, shit, _shit_.

He was just going to hang up -_what are the odds he'll answer anyway?_\- when it suddenly clicked and he was connected to the other side of the line. He inhaled deeply, trying to figure out what to say and also, maybe trying to calm his nerves. But that all instantly stopped at the sound of his baby brother's voice.

"Hello?"

"Sam," Dean choked out, unable to control himself. But Sam must not have been able to hear him because he repeated the question. And only this time did Dean recognize the sounds of what he assumed to be a party. And his little brother sounded maybe a touch intoxicated. But not even half as intoxicated as the female voice that came over the line before Dean could speak again.

"_Sam_," she drawled. "Let's celebrate! I only turn twenty one once." The girl giggled with a hiccup and Dean suddenly wanted to hang up so incredibly badly.

"Just a minute, Jess, I'll be right back," Sam said, and he sounded a little tipsy but sober enough. The first part explained why he actually answered for once. "Um, hello?" He questioned and Dean suddenly cleared his throat; at a loss for what to say.

"Heya' Sammy," He expected anything really. Anger, yelling, maybe -_okay, he didn't expect this but he wanted it, oh God, did he want it_\- even happiness. But not the single, monotone syllable.

"Dean." Silence. Apparently Sam hadn't lost his ability to remain emotionless while hiding how he really felt over the years. Dean cleared his throat.

"So, uh, I hear a party back there-"

"What do you want, Dean?" Sam cut him off, and Dean's stomach dropped a little more.

"Can't I just call in to check on my little brother?" His voice sounded much, much more self assured than he felt.

"Dean," Sam began, and he mentally braced himself for the torrent of words that was surely heading his way. Sam sighed. "Listen man, I'm kind of busy right now. Maybe another time,"

"Wait, Sam-" Dean interrupted, reaching his hand out as if he could physically stop himself from being hung up on.

"What?" He asked, and there just a bit more irritation in his voice this time. "What's so important that it can't wait for another day?" Dean's heart broke into even tinier pieces than before.

_Yeah, what was so important anyway, Dean?_

Ignoring the tiny pricks behind his eyes, he swallowed and nodded.

"Yeah, you're right, Sam. Have fun at your party,"

"Wait, Dean-"

_Click._

Screw it.

Screw Sam and screw everyone who ever gets what they want on their birthday.

He downed the rest of the bottle of beer, before it met it's fate on the motel wall, followed by his phone. He grabbed his bag and headed out the door, never intending on coming back to this craphole of a town. He'd get this hunt done and never look back.

So what if Sam forgot his birthday. So what if Sam didn't want to talk to him anymore. So what if Sam didn't care about him anymore.

_So what._

Turning the keys in the Impala, the engine roared to life and he made his way to the forest. Maybe the hunt would make him forget.

He didn't even care that he was breaking his father's number one rule of hunting.

_Never get distracted._

Or rather the second rule, because the first one was to never hunt alone but his dad broke that one for him, anyways.

He didn't even care if he hunted distracted. He didn't care what happened.

_He didn't care._

What did it matter anyway?

Besides, as Sam asked, what's so important about today?

Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

With a grunt, he grabbed the shotgun next to him, exiting the Impala and entering the forest.

He'd get the job done, one way or another, and ignore the ache deep in his chest.

Whatever.

It was just anolther day.

Right?

* * *

**Hope I didn't get you bummed out too much :) And to anyone who's ever had a bad birthday, or as in my case, every birthday is bad lol, I just want to wish you a happy birthday. You deserve to have the best day, because you really are special. Stay awesome.**


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